


Clean Break

by machka



Series: Hard Lessons [4]
Category: American Idol RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tulsa Gangstas
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-24
Updated: 2009-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 01:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machka/pseuds/machka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you don't get them back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Break

**Author's Note:**

> This follows "Safe" in the _Hard Lessons_ universe. David finally confronts Michael regarding their arrangements, and receives a stunning reply.
> 
> Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. The events described therein are not intended to represent actual events. No libel or defamation is intended in posting said fictitious work.
> 
> In other words, it's not real, because I made it all up.

"Dave." A gentle nudge at his shoulder. "Dave - time to get up."

He rolled away from the pressure with a groan, throwing an arm over his face to block the light.

"Dave." The voice a bit more insistent, the nudge sharper. "C'mon, man..."

"Quit it, Michael..." he mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. "Few more minutes..." His voice trailed off as he slipped back into slumber.

Cocking his head slightly, Andy paused, his arm frozen in mid-nudge. Nodding once to himself, he backed slowly off the bed and headed for the kitchen.

He was just putting the finishing touches on a second stack of pancakes when David stumbled in, lured by the aroma of coffee and bacon, rubbing his eyes sleepily and cursing "goddamned morning people" under his breath.

"Hey, if it weren't for morning people, night owls would never get breakfast," Andy teased, as David collapsed into the chair that had already been pulled out for him. "It's the most important meal of the day, Dave," he informed him gravely, barely keeping a straight face as he set the loaded plate in front of his friend. "Gives you the energy to face the day."

David blinked slowly at the mountain of pancakes on the plate. "Jesus, Andy," he muttered, "Even that loosely-coordinated walking they call 'choreography' doesn't take up this much energy..."

"...But that's not all you have to do today," Andy replied gently, busying himself at the coffee maker.

David swallowed hard as his stomach rolled. "...Don't remind me."

Seating himself opposite, Andy shoved a mug of coffee across the table to the older man. Bracing his elbows on the table, he took a sip from his mug, scrutinizing David over its rim.

David hated when Andy studied him like that.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say?"

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

  


>   
> _"I have no idea what to say to him."_
> 
>  _"But you are going to talk to him...?"_
> 
>  _He stared down at the light bandages on his wrists, barely hidden beneath the cuffs of his sweatshirt. "I--" He dropped his face into his hands, grinding their heels against his eyes, hissing at the sharp jolt of pain coursing through his forearms. "I-I really don't know."_
> 
>  _He hated sounding so helpless, so damned timid, so fucking broken..._
> 
>  _"Dave."_
> 
>  _"Don't."_
> 
>  _" Dave." Andy's voice was as soft as the touch he was applying to David's shoulder, as though worried he might scare the older man off. "He cares about you, Dave. He knows he fucked up. Give him a chance to make it up to you..."_
> 
>  _His grip tightened slightly at the shudder that ran through David's frame._
> 
>  _"I don't think he can," was the muffled reply._
> 
>  _Andy sighed softly. "Won't you at least hear him out?"_
> 
>  _The shoulder beneath his hand rose and fell in a non-commital shrug._
> 
>  _"Dave, please," Andy murmured. "You've been friends for far too long to have it end like this..."_
> 
>  _David shifted sharply away, and Andy let his hand fall, wondering just how far he could push before it became too much._
> 
>  _"Dave, listen to me. Yes, what happened was horrible, and it never should have happened, but it did. He knows he hurt you. He knows how badly he fucked up. He wants to apologize. He wants to make things right between the two of you -- at least he's willing to try..." He paused, searching for the right words to convince him. "Neal loves you, David. You can't just ignore what happened and hope for it to go away, because you know it won't."_
> 
>  _The other man did not respond, but his shoulders sagged noticeably._
> 
>  _"I'm not asking you to trust him. I'm not asking you to forgive him. Only you can decide if he's worthy of that," Andy continued into the silence. "But you have to discuss this with him, David, if only for your own peace of mind. It's the only way to heal."_

  


~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"...David?"

He stared back in silence, and Andy shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Look, man, I know there's a lot going on in your head right now. Unfortunately, you've been down this road before, and you know what you need to do, so I'm gonna shut up now and get ready to go -- my songs aren't gonna track themselves, y'know..."

A faint smile was David's only reply, but for Andy, that was enough.

He pulled a key from his pocket and slid it across the table. "Spare key," he murmured. "Use it if you need to, but just don't lose it, all right?"

David pocketed the key, nodding mutely.

"Now, finish those fucking pancakes, man -- you'll need that extra energy later, believe me..." He pushed back from the table and grabbed his jacket from the hook on the back of the door. "Just lock up when you go, all right?" he said with a smile, and Dave waved him off, his cheeks bulging with pancakes in a state of advanced demolition.

"Oh yeah, one more thing, Cook," Andy added, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "This time? Don't steal my fucking underwear after you shower."

Grinning widely, he dodged an airborne piece of toast and ducked out the door, peeking back around the edge for his parting shot. "And clean up yer mess, ya fucking pig. Later!"

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

  


>   
> _"Davey! Thank God you're here..."_
> 
>  _David automatically flinched away from Neal's extended hand, and Neal immediately pulled it back, flushing scarlet._
> 
>  _"I'm sorry," he breathed, and his voice sounded incredibly small to David's ears -- small and uncertain and horrified, in a way that was completely discordant with the image of the dominant that David carried in his mind._
> 
>  _An awkward silence descended over them, and Dave hunched his shoulders, staring at the ground._
> 
>  _"You wanted to talk," he finally ventured, peering up at Neal from under his eyelashes. "So, talk, asshole."_
> 
>  _Neal heaved a sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I deserved that. But you didn't. Look, man -- I fucked up. Bad. I never should have done what I did to you."_
> 
>  _He slouched against the wall behind him, dropping both his gaze and his voice so much that David took an involuntary step forward just to be sure he could hear him._
> 
>  _"Nothing I did that night was safe or sane, David, and no matter how consensual it might have been when we started, it completely crossed the line into non-consensual when I opened that fucking whiskey bottle. I never should have put you into subspace like that, and I damn sure should never have left you there, bound and alone. I fucked up completely, David. I fucked the scene up, I fucked you up... Hell, I fucked everything up. David, I was wrong. And I'm sorry."_
> 
>  _David grunted softly in acknowledgment._
> 
>  _"I don't want you to sub to me anymore, Davey," Neal continued quietly. "It's no good for either of us. In fact, I think I'm gonna break from the scene altogether... No, not permanently, Dave, not like that," he continued, holding up a hand to still David's protests. "And no, it's not your fault! God, Davey, believe me, it's not because of you -- I'm the one with the problem._
> 
>  _"I have issues I need to deal with, obviously; and once those are corrected, then maybe I'll come back in... But this is not your fault, I swear -- if anything, I should be thanking you for helping me to see where my problems lie. David...I have a lot of work to do before I can trust myself with another human being like that, and I'm sorry that it took you getting hurt for me to see that. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again, but all I can do right now is apologize and ask for your forgiveness. That's all."_
> 
>  _David chewed on his lower lip, processing Neal's words. It was several moments before he trusted himself to speak._
> 
>  _"Um... I... Uh..." he stammered, then paused, inhaling deeply before continuing. "Look -- it's gonna be hard, man, I'm not gonna lie," he said, avoiding Neal's eyes. "But it honestly means a lot to me that you admitted that you fucked up; and that you're willing to make corrections, so that it doesn't happen again; and that you were man enough to apologize for it. So few Doms will ever actually admit to being wrong, even when they obviously are, and almost none of them will apologize for it... God, I hate that they don't, because they should, they absolutely should..."_
> 
>  _He halted again, and Neal actually held his breath, waiting for his verdict._
> 
>  _"I'll--I'll try, Neal. I'll try," David finally whispered, and Neal exhaled heavily in relief._
> 
>  _"That's all I'm asking, Dave," he murmured in response. "That's all I'd ever want you to do."_

  


~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"I want my own room."

Nigel and Simon Fuller glanced up sharply from their charts and figures, frowning as one at the man bearing down on them.

"What?" Nigel snapped. "David, you can't just strut in here after disappearing for eighteen hours with no word whatsoever and expect to make this type of demand!"

David stopped directly in front of Lythgoe and planted his fists firmly on the desk, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. "I want my _own room,_ " he repeated with emphasis, "And I want it by tonight, Nigel, or else when curfew rolls around, you're gonna be short an Idol for the second night in a row. I'm _not_ staying in that room a second longer."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"None of your God-damned business, Fuller..."

"You're my talent, David -- that makes it my business."

"I've got it under control, _Simon_ \-- just as soon as you boys get me my own. Fucking. Room."

The three men glared at each other across the desk for several tense moments.

"Come now, David -- what's brought this on, all of a sudden?" Nigel asked, keeping his voice level despite his obvious irritation. "I've never figured you for the prima-donna type, and you've been content up until now sharing a suite with Johns and Castro. Care to share whatever it is that's bothering you?"

"It's personal, Nigel," David growled. "Call it irreconcilable differences. Call it cabin fever, call it being sick-and-fucking-tired of being around each other, call it whatever-the-fuck you want, seriously -- just get me out of that room before something horrible happens."

Nigel studied his body language a moment. "You're serious about this."

"Never been more sure of anything in my life, Nigel."

Nigel leaned back in his chair, tenting his hands in front of his face thoughtfully while mulling his decision.

"All right, David, we shall see what we can do. I will not, however, make you any promises, is that understood? I will do my best to accommodate you, but you have to realize that we may not be able to make this happen."

"That's what I'm asking, Nigel -- But let it be known, Mr. Lythgoe, that if you do not find me a new spot? I _will_ be breaking curfew and I _will_ be spending my nights off-campus, in a place where I can feel safe. Nothing personal, you understand...it's all in the interest of keeping myself safe."

"Fine!" Nigel declared, clapping his hands together with finality. "That's settled, then! Now be a dear, would you David, and run along to the studio? Mr. Miner's been waiting to speak with you about the arrangements for your tour songs for approximately, oh, nineteen hours now..."

With a tight nod, David turned on his heel and headed back the way he came.

"What do you suppose that was all about?" Simon asked Nigel in an undertone.

"Haven't the faintest," Nigel confessed, eyeing the departing man's back thoughtfully. "All I know is that I'm not going to be the one telling the media they cannot have access to the American Idol because, 'oh, sorry, we have no idea where he might be found,' right? Definitely not going that route..." With his voice trailing off into a rumble, Nigel grabbed the telephone to place a few calls.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The suite was suspiciously quiet when David let himself inside, eight hours later.

He glanced around curiously, a bit puzzled at the atmosphere. It felt far too foreign beneath its familiarity - as if something had minutely shifted, had changed, had fallen out of place...

 _Yeah, I guess that's pretty much the only way to describe it..._ he thought to himself. _Things have definitely changed._

The room he shared -- had shared -- with Michael was empty, not a thing disturbed since his departure a day -- a lifetime -- ago. Michael's bed was still pulled away from the wall, the pink fuzzy abominations still laying on the floor where Michael had dropped them, the bedspread still bearing the imprint of his body...

It hadn't been slept in.

David darted a quick look toward his bed -- exactly as he'd left it yesterday morning.

There was only one other place for Michael to be, and that was how David found himself outside Jason's bedroom door, listening to the squeaks and squawks of bedsprings getting a vigorous workout. Wouldn't be long now, if those noises were any indication...

David stood silent a moment, eyes closed and lips tightly drawn, his hands curling into fists at his side, before he fought down the urge to kick the door in and beat the shit out of the bastard on the other side.

Shaking himself slightly, he checked his phone for missed calls or messages, and pocketed it after finding none.

He gave the closed door one final glance before steeling his shoulders and turning away.

For as many months as he'd occupied that suite, it didn't take him long to pack. Most of his wardrobe was Idol-issue anyway, at this point -- a gym bag stuffed full to bursting was sufficient for the leftovers of his pre-Idol life. Two guitar cases placed beside it, and he was very nearly set.

There was one final thing he needed to do -- but that door was still shut tight.

He flopped onto the couch and tipped his head back, closing his eyes once more, and waited.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He snapped back to full attention a short while later, jerked out of his light doze by the opening of the door, releasing Jason's musical voice and Michael's booming laughter.

Both of these were swiftly cut off when they spotted him seated on the sofa.

Their previous activity would have been clear to even the most casual observer, even if said observer hadn't been standing on the other side of the door.

Jason's face held a light flush, his dreads in deliciously-rumpled disarray around his face, and he was moving gingerly, in the way of the freshly-fucked. There were fresh marks on Jason's wrists that looked like the imprints of too-tight handcuffs, but Jason was a big boy, and capable of consent. At any rate, he was not where David's concerns lie.

No, that was Michael, who currently frozen in place, nearly in mid-step, staring at David openly. Anyone familiar with the man could easily see the gears turning behind Michael's narrowed eyes, and could certainly determine when he came to his decisions.

In an instant, Michael drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders to enhance the advantage of his size. It was all geared toward intimidation, toward dominance; and if he'd seen it in any other context but the present, David would've laughed out loud.

Instead, it only fueled his irritation.

Ignoring Michael's obvious posturing, David locked eyes with him and refused to look away.

He saw the minute shift of Michael's weight, the only outward sign of the man's discomfort, and a slow, terrible smile spread across his face -- a smile which set Michael's nerves immediately on edge.

"What?" he snapped, and David's smile turned into a snarl.

"Didn't take you long, did it?"

"Hey! _You_ were the one that _left,_ David! No one knew where you were--"

"--And you couldn't be bothered to look, right? Too busy fucking someone else?"

The open hostility between them was too much for Jason to handle, and he swayed nervously in place, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two men. "Uh, okay!" he declared, forcing a faked brightness into his voice, "You guys obviously need to have a talk. I'm gonna go..." He flapped his hands vaguely toward the door. "...Um, _out_ for a while, while you two sort this shit out..."

Neither of them acknowledged his words, nor did they watch him leave. The tension in the air grew thick around them as they studied each other in silence, which Michael was the first to break.

"You want to talk? Talk."

"We need to discuss what happened last night."

"What about it?"

"What about it?" David repeated incredulously, feeling the heat beginning to creep up the back of his neck. "All of it -- everything that happened up until I left -- do you not think we need to discuss that?"

"I should have known you'd bring that up," Michael sneered, oozing cool disdain and dismissal. The effect was very nearly ruined by his surprise at David's acceptance of it.

"Yes, you should have known!" David jumped to his feet in agitation, pacing restlessly in the small space in front of Michael. "There's a reason we go over this!"

"Oh God, here we go..."

"Don't you ever fucking _dare_ roll your eyes at me again!" David bit out, his hands clenching tightly into fists until his wrists screamed with the tension, grounding him. "We've been over this before, we'll go over it again -- as many times as necessary for you to get it right!"

He whirled around on the other man, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Safe! Sane! Consensual!"

Each individual word snapped like a whipcrack from David's lips, and Michael physically flinched each time.

"Remember that?" David demanded, his eyes burning into Michael's. "What, if _anything_ , about yesterday was any of that? Can you tell me?" He resumed his stalking back and forth, gesturing sharply with his hands. "Safe! What exactly was 'safe' about it? And sane? Consensual! Are we even working with the same definitions here?"

"Aw, c'mon, Davey, it wasn't that bad, man," Michael protested heatedly. "Nothing fucking _happened!_ You were cuffed to a bed, and they weren't even that tight..."

"You _never_ leave a bound sub alone, Michael -- you just _don't_!" David's voice had risen to a near-shriek, but he made no effort to dampen it. "How many fucking times did I emphasize 'eyeshot and earshot'? Do you know _why_ I repeated that, over and over and over again? Jesus fucking Christ, Michael!"

Abruptly, he reined himself in, dragging his hands through his hair as his eyes squeezed shut.

"Do you have any idea what happens when you abandon a sub, leave them alone and utterly vulnerable like that?" His voice faltered as the full weight of memory settled like his old collar into the groove around his neck. "They go to a _very bad place_ , Michael... A place that's so dark, and so cold..." He barely even heard his voice crack as he contemplated the thought. "And sometimes, you don't get them back."

Michael remained silent, staring at him with his jaw stubbornly set.

"Sometimes, Michael," David continued, his voice low and broken with emotion, "Sometimes you get drunk; and you beat them bloody, and tie them to a wall by just their wrists and their collar, and their legs finally give out... Sometimes, the collar shifts and cuts off their air... And sometimes, they're so fucking miserable and despondent that they actively seek to finish the job..."

He swallowed hard over the lump rising in his throat, choking for a moment on his words.

"Do you understand why this is a big fucking deal, Michael?" he asked softly. "You never mean to, y'know... Most of the time, it's not intentional..."

David's head dropped to his chest, and his shoulders sagged wearily with the sudden effort of speech.

"But sometimes things happen that you never planned for, and you lose someone...and you can _never_ get them _back_."

He sighed heavily, raising his head to meet Michael's gaze.

"Do you understand that now, Michael? There has to be trust there, trust that you won't put me in peril each and every time I agree to submit to you. I _have_ to be able to trust you -- I _want_ to trust you, Michael; but right now I don't believe that I can..."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Michael replied, his tone so cold and distant that it sent a shiver down David's spine.

His phrasing was all wrong. There was something just plain _disturbing_ about it... David shook his head slightly to clear the feeling crawling over his skin. "I'm not asking you to apologize, Michael--"

"--That's good, because I'm not going to."

David raised an eyebrow without comment, and plunged onward. "Okay, good, because all the apologies in the world mean nothing unless you can tell me what you're going to do to change."

"I don't see any need to," Michael replied grimly, crossing his arms and glaring darkly at David. "I don't think I did anything wrong."

Gaping, David stared at him, a tinge of horror coloring his disbelief.

Michael waited one beat, then two. " _What?_ " he demanded angrily.

David snapped his mouth shut and swallowed hard again. "I... I think we're done here," he murmured softly.

Turning away without another word, David gathered his things and slowly left the room, leaving Michael staring after him, standing like a statue in his wake.


End file.
